


Mysterious Ways

by scatterglory



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Crack, First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatterglory/pseuds/scatterglory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin shut his eyes and gritted his teeth against the force of the Dragon’s laughter.</p><p>“My goodness, young warlock,” the Dragon chortled maliciously. “You do manage to get into the most incredible situations, do you not?”</p><p>“Yeah, all right, fair point,” Merlin ground out. “But how do I <i>fix</i> it?” <i>Don’t make me spell it out for you, you great leathery bastard.</i></p><p>Still chuckling, the Dragon eyed him knowingly. “In this case, your dream has steered you truly.” Spreading his wings, he launched off the ledge, the heavy chain trailing behind him. “Give my regards to the princes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mysterious Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-love; I make no profit, and claim no ownership.
> 
> AN: Loosely set in Season 1, I think. I’m not a Brit and it's not Brit-picked. Please read with caution and forgiveness. :) Originally posted on kinkme_merlin for the prompt “One of Merlin's spells goes awry, and suddenly there are two Arthurs.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Merlin swore. Not the most creative statement, perhaps, but one that he felt summed up the situation pretty accurately nonetheless. The sorcerer who had ambushed him and Arthur on their way back from a two-day hunting excursion was now nothing more than a steaming pile of … yeah, not really a threat at the moment. A dim part of Merlin’s mind thought he should probably feel a bit more relieved regarding this point, but mostly he was too occupied envisioning his imminent death-by-burning to focus on anything else.

Wait, scratch that—anything else that didn’t include the prone form of Arthur stretched out along the path in front of the sorcerer’s remains… or the _other_ prone form of Arthur that had been flung several paces back into the forest and was currently being cradled by a fortuitously-placed shrubbery.

“Brilliant. Bloody brilliant,” Merlin sighed. Apparently his masterful counterspell had gone just a wee bit off-course—as intended, it had split the enormous fireball heading towards Arthur into two smaller fireballs that veered away harmlessly. However (because Merlin’s life just couldn’t be easy, could it? No, no it could not), the fireball wasn’t the only thing that had split.

So now here Merlin was, alone in the forest half a day’s ride from Camelot, no horses to be seen (the little bastards had taken off after the first fireball, bloody traitors), having done magic in front of the crown prince …  _Er, princes? Yeah, most definitely princes. Bugger._  Possibly the only bright spot in the whole situation was that both Arthurs were unconscious, which gave Merlin some time to come up with either an explanation or a solution. Or, failing that, an escape route.

“Ah well,” he said to himself, brightening a bit, “at least it’s not raining.” 

A rumble overhead summoned his attention skyward just as the first drops began to fall.

“Bloody  _hell_ ,” he sighed again.

 

* * *

  
Arthur-that-had-collapsed-on-the-path, or “Arthur-One,” as Merlin had taken to thinking of him, groaned loudly, his armour creaking as he tried to sit up. Merlin, who had been tending the rather impressive (and differentiating, thank the gods!) cut on the cheek of Arthur-that-had-been-flung-into-a-shrubbery (“Arthur-Two”), turned around, heart in his throat.

“Merlin,” Arthur-One croaked, his eyes fluttering open. Merlin hovered over him, as much to block his view of Arthur-Two as to express concern, and Arthur-One groaned again. “What happened?”

“I—er, that is …” Merlin began. Arthur-One rolled his eyes—and really, wasn’t that a bit unfair? _He_ was the one … er, one of the ones … who'd been knocked unconscious, after all, so what right did he have to go about rolling his eyes at Merlin?—and sat up. 

“Why am I wet?” he demanded.

“Um, it’s raining?” They were currently protected by the thick boughs of an ancient tree, but it had taken some doing to physically drag both Arthurs the necessary distance (no _way_ was Merlin risking more magic at this point), and none of them had been able to avoid the inevitable soaking that occurred as a result.

Arthur-One gave him a scathing look, then looked out at the path. “What happened? Where’s the sorcerer?” he demanded in the same imperious tone.

“Don’t you remember?” Merlin asked as Arthur-One scanned the forest through the rain.

“I remember being attacked, and then … nothing.” He sounded troubled.

Merlin said a brief thank-you for small favours, looked his prince (well, one of them, at least) straight in the eyes, and lied.

“It was amazing, really. The sorcerer was throwing fireballs left and right—see, the trees out there are scorched—” Arthur-One’s eyes strained to make out the scorch marks Merlin pointed to, thus continuing to remain ignorant of the other “him” sharing the tree’s shelter, “but you were too fast, and you got him before he could get us.” Merlin paused for breath; this would be the tricky bit. “But, well … you got him right as he cast his last spell. I think it rebounded on him; I was thrown back, so I didn’t rightly see it, but when I got up, he was gone and you were … I mean …”

At that moment, Arthur-Two moaned. “Merlin?”

Arthur-One’s head whipped around, his hand flying to his sword. “Who’s there?”

“No, wait, it’s all right, it’s like I was trying to tell you—” Merlin gripped Arthur-One’s shoulders, ignoring his look of angry confusion as he barrelled on. “The sorcerer did something to you with his last spell and now there are two of you,” he finished in a rush.

Arthur-One’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Merlin? What happened?” Arthur-Two sat up. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Merlin and … himself. “Get back, evil sorcerer!” he cried, his hand flying to his sword as well.

Merlin flung himself in between them just as Arthur-Two lunged forward. Somehow Arthur-Two managed to keep from impaling Merlin, but his momentum carried them both forward to crash on top of Arthur-One in an ungainly heap.

“Get off!” Merlin’s mouth was muffled by an Arthur’s armpit, and he flailed around blindly until one of them pulled him upright. 

Both Arthurs were staring at him with twin looks of bemused contempt, and Merlin wanted to cry. Really, it wasn’t  _fair_.

“Merlin,” gritted out Arthur-Two, rubbing at his shrubbery-caused scratch with irritation, “I think you’d better tell me  _exactly_  what is going on.”

 

* * *

 

The long walk back to Camelot was one of the most awkward and painful experiences of Merlin’s life. Up to this point, if Merlin had ever been forced to imagine the worst possible thing that could happen to him, he would have said, “Being burned at the stake by Uther,” without hesitation. However, after the past four hours, he’d begun to re-evaluate his previous position on the matter.

Walking with one Arthur was trying enough at the best of times—naturally competitive, Arthur usually took it as a personal insult if Merlin wasn’t wheezing like an old stablehand by the time the reached their destination. Now, staggering blindly after the  _two_  Arthurs, Merlin was seriously contemplating his own death.

Although they seemed to believe his weak account of the battle with the sorcerer, neither Arthur had been particularly pleased with the outcome. They appeared to have taken an instant disliking to each other—which, really, was a bit hilarious, all told—and kept shooting each other dark looks as they stormed down the path as fast as humanly possible. If Merlin had been in a bit better condition, he might have found the whole thing amusing—he’d long been of the opinion that it would do Arthur a world of good to encounter someone who could match him without compromise, and this whole set-up was a bit too perfect on that account. However, given that just that morning he’d fought and beaten a rather powerful sorcerer, dragged two not-exactly-delicate, unconscious princes a goodly distance, and was now an unfortunate participant in their ridiculous display of manly physical competition, he supposed he had the right to feel a bit knackered.

“Oi,” he gasped out, “Slow down a bit, yeah?”

The Arthurs ignored him, continuing to shove forward neck-and-neck, jostling each other rather more than was strictly necessary given the width of the path.

Gritting his teeth, Merlin followed after, lagging a bit more behind with each step. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he fell to his knees in the mud. “No, you two go on ahead, I’ll just meet you back at the castle,” he muttered under his breath.

A moment later, perhaps sensing that the witness to their overwhelmingly impressive walking abilities was no longer present, the Arthurs turned as one and stalked back to him.

“ _Mer_ lin,” began Arthur-One. “Get up this instant!”

Merlin glared at him. “ _So_  sorry, sire, but it appears that I’m no match for you … er, you both.”

Arthur-One scowled, and looked like he was about to say something in retort, when Arthur-Two stepped forward and held out his hand. “Right you are,” he said heartily. “Up you go; we can go a bit slower, I suppose. Camelot’s not going anywhere, after all.”

Relieved, Merlin grasped Arthur-Two’s arm and allowed himself to be dragged to his feet. He swayed uncertainly for a moment, and Arthur-Two put a hand in the small of his back to steady him.

“All right?” Arthur-Two asked, voice rife with concern. Merlin nodded wordlessly, and just managed to catch the look of outrage that Arthur-One cast at Arthur-Two as they began walking again.

 _Oh, good gods,_  Merlin sighed to himself.

  


* * *

  
If the Arthurs were not pleased with the current state of affairs, Uther was nearly apoplectic. After a very long, very loud rant against all things magical that culminated in dire predictions of civil war if Camelot was to continue have two crown princes, the three of them were ordered off to Gaius for examination. The Arthurs strode through the halls as though nothing were amiss, pointedly ignoring the whispering of the servants who boggled at the sight of them. 

Merlin followed behind, glad that being given clear orders from Uther seemed to have at least momentarily distracted the princes from the present target of their competition: namely, Merlin himself. The remainder of their walk back to Camelot had been almost as painful as the first bit, with Merlin being pulled this way and that as the Arthurs tried to outdo each other in “looking out” for him— “Whoops, careful Merlin, don’t want you twisting your ankle on that root!” “Not there, can’t you see that puddle would swallow your boot whole?” “Here, lean on me—just a bit further, now!”

All in all, it had been a very unsettling day, and Merlin just hoped that Gaius would be able to provide some clarity amongst all the madness.

 

* * *

  
 _If Gaius’ eyebrows raise any higher, they’ll be permanently lost in his hair,_  Merlin glowered to himself. The Arthurs were still staring daggers at each other, tripping over their own tongues in an effort to relate their— _Yes, it’s_  obviously  _incorrect, Gaius, so stop grimacing at me and I’ll tell you later when I can do so without the threat of_  execution  _looming over my head_ —version of what had happened. 

Gaius must have read his expression, for when the Arthurs had finished, he very carefully did not look at Merlin. “I see, sire...s,” he said solemnly, before performing a cursory examination of them both. “It appears that you are indeed identical in every way—you have the same memories, correct?”

The princes nodded.

“Very well,” Gaius contined. “I shall see what my books can tell me. In the mean time, I suggest you two remain close together. We have no idea how permanent this split might be, or what may happen when the magic fades. It would not do to have one—or both—of you vanish into the ether because you two were not together when the spell ended.”

The Arthurs looked uncomfortable at this prospect. Merlin couldn’t blame them.

“But you think it’s possible to undo this … duplication?” Arthur-One asked, a good deal more subdued than he’d been previously.

Gaius nodded. “I’m almost certain of it. It may take me a while, sires, but I believe I shall be able to solve this problem for the both of you.”

The Arthurs nodded in unison, and moved towards the door.

“If I may—” Gauis said before they left. “My research would proceed much more quickly were Merlin available to assist me. Perhaps when he has finished his duties this evening, you will send him back?”

The Arthurs nodded again, and Gaius shot Merlin a look that promised many uncomfortable things in his near future.

Feeling rather put-upon— _After all, I_  did  _manage to stop that bloody sorcerer and save Arthur’s ...lives..._ —Merlin followed the princes back to their chambers.

 

* * *

  
Arthur’s rooms, while some of the most spacious in the entire castle, were in no way large enough to encompass the two princes, their egos, and Merlin with any degree of comfort. As soon as they entered the room, both Arthurs immediately headed for their favourite chair. Arthur-Two got there first, taking possession of the chair with a blinding grin of victory. Arthur-One seemed about to object, when Merlin caught his sleeve. 

“Sire,” he said as respectfully as he could—which, granted, wasn’t very respectful at all, but he was still wet and tired and starving, dammit—“Would you like me to help you out of your wet things?”

Shooting Arthur-Two a look of triumph, Arthur-One smirked. “Yes, thank you, Merlin. That would be wonderful,” he said sweetly. 

 _Fantastic, so we’re back to that, then._  

Determined to make the best of a bad situation, Merlin led the disconcertingly agreeable prince to the wardrobe, and began to remove his armour. When he’d got Arthur-One out of all his wet clothes save for the under-most layer, he turned to get a robe. Arthur-One’s hand on his shoulder stopped him; he bit back a yelp of surprise as the prince spun him back around, almost causing him to pitch forward into the Arthur-One’s now-bare chest.

“Merlin,” Arthur-One purred, “Hold off on the robe; I’m feeling rather sore. Attend me.” Pulling Merlin along behind him, he flopped face-down onto the bed. Merlin stood behind him, mouth hanging open. This was … yes, well, he’d rubbed sore muscles for Arthur before, after training or a tournament, but this felt different somehow …

A clatter behind him warned him that Arthur-Two was moving, so he managed not to start too much when Arthur-Two grabbed his arm.

“I’m still wet,” Arthur-Two said belligerently, as if daring Arthur-One to object to his commandeering of Merlin. Arthur-One rolled onto his side and scowled, but didn’t say anything as Merlin hurriedly undressed Arthur-Two as well. Arthur-Two prevented him from retrieving a robe just as Arthur-One had, and Merlin gulped.

 _This can’t possibly end well._  He looked up from where his eyes had been nervously fixed on Arthur-Two’s bare chest and scanned the prince’s face. To his dismay, Arthur-Two was smirking over at Arthur-One, challenge written plain across his features. Merlin saw Arthur-One fisting the sheets, nearly biting through his lip in an effort to appear calm. 

“Don’t worry,” Arthur-Two said to Arthur-One, arrogance dripping from every word, “You’ll have your little massage … as soon as I’m done with him.”

Before Merlin could work out what that meant, Arthur-Two’s grip tightened, pulling Merlin to his chest. The prince’s free hand gripped the back of Merlin’s neck, pulling him forward ... and then Arthur-Two’s mouth was on his, in what was most definitely a  _kiss._

Merlin gasped in shock— _Oh gods, what is he—this is_  Arthur,  _what is he thinking?_  

And, right, so maybe Merlin had thought about this once or twice, when he was helping Arthur out of his armour after a triumphant tournament, or when Arthur smirked conspiratorially at him from across his wine goblet during one of those interminable court feasts, or when it was just the two of them roasting meat from Arthur’s latest kill with the firelight reflecting in Arthur’s golden hair … but Arthur had never,  _would_  never do anything like this with a  _servant,_ or a  _man,_ or a …  _him._ It had to be the bloody spell—

And then Merlin was being wrenched away and backwards, stumbling into the arms of Arthur-One.

“I’ll thank you to keep your hands off of  _my_  manservant,” Arthur-One hissed, pulling Merlin close to him.

Arthur-Two laughed, a thoroughly unpleasant sound. “ _Your_  manservant, is he? Then why was he so content to let  _me_  have my way with him?”

Merlin choked, about to protest, when Arthur-One spun him around roughly. His eyes still locked on Arthur-Two’s, he pulled Merlin into a kiss that was … exactly like Arthur-One’s. 

 _Mad. I must be going mad._

As soon as he could manage, Merlin pushed away from Arthur-One. “No! Stay back! Both of you!” he yelled, holding up both of his hands as the Arthurs started towards him. Thwarted, they rounded on each other.

Merlin didn’t stick around to see what would happen— _They can slash each other to bits, for all I care._ Mumbling something about “seeing to Gaius,” he turned and fled.

 

* * *

  
Gaius looked up in surprise as Merlin came flying in to the room. “Merlin! Done so soon? I should think that with two princes—” Merlin’s look of abject horror caused Gaius to trail off. 

“Yes, well, perhaps you had better tell me what really happened,” he said instead.

 

* * *

  
Some time later, after Merlin had calmed down enough to explain the truth to Gaius, the court physician regarded him thoughtfully. “So you mean to tell me that—without any sort of preparation or, indeed, intent whatsoever, you seem to have split our dear crown prince in two?”

“Er. Yeah, that’s about right.”

Gaius sighed. “Merlin, my boy, I’ll grant you this: you do keep things lively.” He got up and selected an ancient tome from an overburdened shelf. “And you may be in luck.” Flipping to a page somewhere in the middle—and really, how did he know? Merlin could hardly recall the last thing he read a few days ago—he nodded once.

“Yes, I thought this sounded familiar.” Placing the book in front of Merlin, he explained. “I believe you have unintentionally performed a variation of what may best be described as a “doubling” spell.”

“A what?”

“It’s a spell used by unscrupulous sorcerers to give the appearance of prosperity. A skilled enough sorcerer could temporarily “split” an item into two identical parts, which would double the amount and enable the sorcerer to sell it for twice as much as it would otherwise be worth.” Gaius turned the page. “Unfortunately, the spell was impermanent, and the goods would crumble into dust shortly after being split.”

Merlin gulped. “That’s … not good.”

Gaius fixed him with a withering stare. “No, I should say not.” He read a bit more, and continued. “It appears as though only very powerful sorcerers were able to perform the spell on living subjects such as farm animals, and it was deemed far too dangerous to be performed on a person.”

Merlin gulped again. “But there has to be a way to undo it, right? Granted, Arthur's a right prat, but I don’t want him to—to—”

Gaius sighed. “Nor do I, my boy. Let me see …” Squinting, he leaned closer to the page. “Ah, here we are. According to this note in the margin, one sorcerer was able to perform the spell on a human subject,  _and_  to reverse it before the subject perished.”

“How?”

Gaius looked uncertain. “It says he … used the catalyst as a conduit to join the two.” He looked up at Merlin apologetically. “I’m afraid I have no idea what that means,” he admitted. “Magic works in mysterious ways, after all.”

Merlin’s stomach sank. “Maybe another book …?”

Gaius nodded, but didn’t look hopeful. “I will, of course, keep looking. In the meantime, however, I suggest you face up to whatever sent you scurrying in here before you’d finished serving your masters—yes, my boy, I know that guilty look of yours—and go back to your duties.”

Cringing internally and sighing audibly, Merlin obediently left Gaius’ chambers.  _If they try anything again, I’ll just turn them into matching toads … it won’t matter much if they’re only going to crumble into dust anyway._

 _  
_

* * *

  
Merlin paused for a moment to summon up his courage before knocking tentatively on the Arthurs’ door.

“Come in,” they chorused, and he breathed a small sigh of relief.   _Still alive enough to talk, then._

He closed the door behind him carefully, and surveyed the scene in front of him.

Arthur-One was sitting dejectedly on the bed, the beginnings of a prime black eye just starting to show. Arthur-Two was flopped gracelessly in their chair, rubbing his jaw gingerly. Both had various scrapes and cuts across their still-bare chests; luckily for identification purposes, however, Arthur-Two was still the only one with a cut on his cheek.

Merlin fought down a grin, and adopted an appropriately sober expression. “Do either of you require anything, sires?”

Arthur-One sighed heavily, and glanced over at Arthur-Two. Arthur-Two grimaced, and looked somewhere past Merlin’s head. “We both wish to apologize,” he said stiffly. “It was thoughtless of us to involve you in our petty rivalry.”

“We had a bit of a … chat … while you were gone, and we’ve decided there’s nothing for it but to make the best of it until Gaius can resolve this matter,” put in Arthur-One.

Fighting down a sudden, and rather disconcerting, feeling of disappointment, Merlin swallowed. “Thank you, sires, I appreciate it. As it so happens, Gaius found what may turn out to be a cure, but he’s not quite sure what to make of it yet.”

The Arthurs perked up at this, and came over to the table. They sat down in unison with twin expressions of curiosity, and he faltered for a moment as the two pairs of piercing blue eyes looked up at him. Gathering his wits, he related the ambiguous wording of the potential solution (carefully omitting the whole falling-to-dust bit). The Arthurs looked confused. 

“I take it that we’re the ‘two’ that need to be united, but the catalyst? And conduit? What’s that supposed to mean?” said Arthur-One.

Merlin shrugged. “No idea. Gaius is still looking.”

Disgruntled, the Arthurs let the matter slide. Merlin assisted them with getting ready for bed; there was a close call when it came time to determine who would actually get the bed itself, but as the bed was large enough to house most of the knights and several squires, they finally unbent enough to allow for the possibility of sharing. Seeing them both tucked beneath the plush red covers, eyelids already drooping into sleep, made Merlin’s mouth suddenly dry.

 _I must be more tired than I thought,_  he decided on his way back to Gaius’ rooms.

  


* * *

  
 _Two matching pairs of blue eyes, two identical mouths, four familiar hands exploring the unfamiliar terrain of his body …_

Merlin woke suddenly, panting and achingly hard, and was bringing himself to completion before he was fully aware of what was going on.

“Bollocks,” he murmured as he collapsed back into the mattress, a sinking feeling in his stomach. The dream alone would have been enough to unhinge him a bit, but more to the point, he was now appallingly certain what the required course of action would turn out to be. 

Not certain enough, however, to broach the topic with the princes without at least a little independent verification. Gaius was out, obviously—he’ rather be skinned alive than go to the physician with  _this_  particular inquiry. But maybe …

Sighing as he left his room, he contemplated the inevitably uncomfortable conversation that would occur in the near future. Luckily, the castle was still dark and nearly everyone still abed, so there was no one about to even momentarily entertain the notion that the prince’s manservant was about to consult an overgrown lizard regarding matters of the flesh.

  


* * *

>

  
Merlin shut his eyes and gritted his teeth against the force of the Dragon’s laughter. 

“My goodness, young warlock,” the Dragon chortled maliciously. “You do manage to get into the most incredible situations, do you not?”

“Yeah, all right, fair point,” Merlin ground out. “But how do I  _fix_  it?”  _Don’t make me spell it out for you, you great leathery bastard._

Still chuckling, the Dragon eyed him knowingly. “In this case, your dream has steered you truly.” Spreading his wings, he launched off the ledge, the heavy chain trailing behind him. “Give my regards to the princes.”

  


* * *

  
“Absolutely not,” declared Arthur-Two imperiously, Arthur-One nodding in agreement. Merlin found it appalling that they both managed to look regal and composed while still sitting in bed, hair mussed from sleep. He hadn’t made a move towards helping them get dressed because, really, it seemed a bit counterproductive.

Merlin sighed. “I’m open to suggestions,” he said, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms.

Arthur-One looked mulish. “It doesn’t make any sense. How are  _you_  the catalyst? I should think that would be the sorcerer, you know, the one who cast the spell in the first place?”

 _Bollocks._  “Er, Gaius thinks that I was winged by the spell as well,” Merlin improvised. “He said something about ‘magical transference’ that I didn’t quite follow. It’s all very technical,” he said apologetically.

Arthur-Two snorted. “Right. ‘Magical transference.’ Sounds a bit rubbish to me.”

“Agreed. You and Gaius will just have to think of something else,” put in Arthur-One.

Merlin bit his lip. “Well, sires, while normally I would agree completely, it seems we may be in a bit of a time crunch.”

“What do you mean?” asked Arthur-One, brow furrowed.

“It’s just that … Gaius thinks … well, the book seems to indicate that unless we, er, get you two joined again rather soon, there’s a slight chance—faint possibility, really—that you might just … crumble into dust?”

The Arthurs stared at him. 

“Just to clarify,” began Arthur-Two after a moment, “in all of those bloody books of Gaius’, the  _only_  way he can find to fix … us … is for the two of us to …” he waved his hand about vaguely, and Merlin flushed, “ ... with you, and if we refuse, we may  _crumble into dust_?”

“Seems that way, yeah,” Merlin said weakly. “Er, Gaius said magic works in mysterious ways?”

The Arthurs exchanged a look.

“Right,” said Arthur-One. “So, how do we do this?”

  


* * *

  
For all that Merlin’s dream had been … exciting … it had been rather vague on the details. Improvising frantically, he decided to take matters in hand, as it were, which was how he found himself sitting on the bed next to a prone Arthur-One, awkwardly wanking the prince off as Arthur-Two leaned over his shoulder and offered running commentary.

“No, Merlin, twist a bit at the end—yeah, like that—” Arthur-Two’s breath in his ear was more annoying than erotic, truth be told.

“Maybe you’d like to do this yourself?” he snapped. 

Arthur-Two made a contemplative noise, and his hair brushed the top of Merlin’s ear as he shook his head. “No, I don’t think that would work—you’re the catalyst-conduit thing, yeah? Best you do it.”

Arthur-One grunted in agreement, and Merlin sighed. He continued his admittedly not-entirely-unpleasant task, and was rewarded in short order by a choking gasp from Arthur-One as he came.

“Right,” said Merlin as Arthur-One’s body trembled through the aftershocks, “shall we move on?” 

He turned to face Arthur-Two, who eyed him thoughtfully. “This would be a good deal if you’d remove your trousers,  _sire_ ,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Mmm,” replied Arthur-Two absently as he shucked off his sleep trousers, “You know, Merlin, I think I should like you to use your mouth.”

Merlin gaped at him, and felt himself blushing furiously. “I’d really rather—”

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur-Two smirked at him, reclining back onto the bed, “Variety is the spice of life.” Merlin glared at him, jumping slightly when Arthur-One clapped him on the back.

“ _And_  if you can’t be arsed to obey your prince...s, the stocks have been looking rather lonely of late,” Arthur-One said jovially.

Glaring daggers at both of them, Merlin rolled his eyes and set to. It had been a while, but he’d done this before, back in Ealdor—a few fumblings in the hay with various village boys at first, and then more regular encounters with Will, because what were mates for, after all? But he’d not done anything since coming to Camelot, because …

Well, if he were being honest with himself, and it did seem a tad pointless to deny it given his current situation, he’d not done anything in Camelot because the only person he’d really wanted to do anything  _with_  had been Arthur, which could obviously never happen.

Except now it was. Arthur-Two was moaning under him and thrusting up into his mouth, and Merlin was having trouble remembering how to breathe. Then Arthur-One’s hand was in his hair, guiding Merlin’s mouth, and Arthur-One’s breath was shallow and warm in Merlin’s ear. Arthur-Two came with a cry, and Arthur-One didn’t let him up until his double had relaxed down into the bed.

Merlin sat back, gasping and hard, because that had been a bit … yeah. He looked back and forth between the two Arthurs, and found that they were staring at him with twin expressions of something that made his cock twitch with anticipation.

Without a word, Arthur-One put a hand on his chest and pushed him backward. He fell into the arms of Arthur-Two, who had managed to sit up against the headboard of the bed. Arthur-Two pulled his shirt up and over his head, and then held him tightly as Arthur-One crawled up the bed towards him. Arthur-Two lifted him slightly off the mattress, allowing Arthur-One to summarily divest him of his trousers and boots, and drop them over the side of the bed. Merlin’s cock was achingly hard by this point, and he shuddered as Arthur-One looked up at him with eyes darkened by lust. 

Then Arthur-One’s mouth was on him, and Merlin’s hips tried to jerk up of their own accord. But Arthur-Two held him down, hand on his stomach, and Merlin’s head fell back to rest on his shoulder. Arthur-One’s tongue swirled around him, and he choked back a groan—this was good, too good, he wasn’t going to last long—when Arthur-Two put his finger into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin sucked on it desperately, and moaned when it withdrew. He nearly cried out a moment later, when Arthur-Two lifted him up again and began to press the slippery finger against his entrance.

Then Arthur-Two’s finger was inside him, fucking him, and Arthur-One was taking him all the way down, and Merlin cried out again and again until he came in an overwhelming wave of pleasure and heat.

He slumped against Arthur-Two, utterly spent, his eyes half closed and unable to do much more than breathe.

Arthur-Two sighed in frustration. “That didn’t work.”

“Indeed,” confirmed Arthur-One.

“Bugger,” Merlin managed weakly, aware he should probably contribute something to the conversation. He cracked an eye open just in time to catch Arthur-One raising an eyebrow contemplatively.

“You know,  _that_  might work,” Arthur-One said.

“Worth a go,” Arthur-Two agreed.

Feeling as though he was being left behind rather rapidly, Merlin struggled to sit up. Arthur-One caught his shoulders and pulled him forward onto his hands and knees.

“Right, Merlin, you just relax; we’ll take it from here,” he commanded.

“Take what? From where?” Merlin asked in confusion. The Arthurs ignored him.

“Which would you prefer?” Arthur-One asked solicitously.

“Well, as I’ve already had his mouth, perhaps you’d like to … ?” Arthur-Two replied from behind him.

With the sneaking suspicion that he was thoroughly out-manned, Merlin tried to get up, but both Arthurs held him down. 

“Just a tick, let me get—” said Arthur-Two.

Merlin felt Arthur-Two’s weight shift on the bed behind him, and heard the sound of a drawer being opened. The faint smell of something medicinal wafted through the air, and Arthur-Two grunted in approval.

“Knew this slimy stuff of Gaius’ would be of use someday,” he said, placing a hand on Merlin’s arse for balance.

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but before he could get a word out, Arthur-One had moved forward and pressed his once-more stiff cock into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin gasped around the intrusion, but Arthur-One’s hand on his head kept him from pulling away.

“Ready?” enquired Arthur-One.

“Quite.” 

Merlin gasped again as Arthur-Two’s finger, liberally coated with whatever ointment of Gaius’ he’d found, pressed against his arsehole.  _This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t—_  His cry was muffled by Arthur-One’s cock as Arthur-Two inserted another finger, and began to scissor him open. He rocked forward slightly, only to gag as Arthur-One’s cock grazed the back of his throat. 

Arthur-One’s hand in his hair tightened convulsively. “ _Gods_ , Merlin,” he breathed, his hips thrusting forward ever-so-slightly. Merlin, in turn, rocked back again Arthur-Two’s fingers, and a jolt of heat rushed through him as they hit somewhere deep and warm inside of him. 

Then Arthur-Two’s fingers were gone, and his cock was pressing against Merlin’s hole, pushing into him. They were still for a moment, Merlin barely able to breathe, let alone think, filled completely by Arthur in every way.

Then, in perfect time, the Arthurs began to move. Merlin’s arms gave out almost immediately, but the strong arms of the Arthurs held him up, held him in place, held him captive as they fucked him in unison. Merlin felt saliva trailing from his mouth, oil sliding down his legs; his cock strained up towards his stomach, harder than it had ever been before. Each of Arthur-Two’s thrusts shot heat throughout his body, and Arthur-One’s cock was nearly choking him, heightening the sensation.  Somewhere deep within him, he felt his magic beginning to uncoil, to seep out of him and into the Arthurs, spurring them on as they moved faster, _harder into him._ He tried to pull away, to warn them, but they held him fast—his magic broke over all of them like a wave of fire, blinding him as they came together.

 

* * *

  
Merlin had no idea how much time had passed, but judging by his rumbling stomach, it had been at least several hours. Eyes still closed, he stretched experimentally, his muscles crying out in protest. Then someone murmured in annoyance, flinging an arm across his chest, and his eyes snapped open.

“Arthur?” he asked hesitantly, sitting up.

The golden head on the pillow beside him glared up at him in irritation. Merlin grinned in relief at the black eye, bruised jaw and scratched cheek on Arthur’s—the  _only_  Arthur’s, thank the gods!—sleep-glazed face.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Apparently realizing that Merlin wasn’t about to just shut up and let him sleep, Arthur propped himself up on his elbows. “I feel … I feel …” he began solemnly.

Then he launched himself at Merlin, tackling him back down onto the bed. “I feel that now that I actually know—remember— _whatever_ , what it’s like to fuck you both ways at once, I just want you twice as much as before,” he growled.

Merlin beamed up at him. “You wanted to fuck me before?” he asked beatifically.

Arthur responded in a nonverbal but _very_ affirmative fashion, and no words were exchanged again for quite some time.

When they had collapsed, exhausted and sweaty and temporarily sated, Arthur groaned. “I suppose I had better go and report to my father.”

“You do that,” Merlin said lazily, his eyes closed. He felt, rather than saw, Arthur’s glare.

“And you expect me to let you stay here, leaving me to figure out how best to explain to my father that I—well, both ‘I’s—had to simultaneously ravish my manservant in order to break the spell?”

“Mmm.” Merlin wriggled luxuriously in the soft covers, making Arthur choke. “Sounds brilliant to me.”

There was a moment of silence, before Arthur swooped down to claim Merlin’s mouth. Merlin was more than happy to let him, and for a while it appeared that Uther would continue to live in ignorance of his son’s cured state. Finally Arthur pulled away with a sigh of deep regret.

“ _Fine_ ,” he said in a long-suffering tone. “But as punishment, you are to wait here,  _exactly_  as you are now, until I return.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin agreed complacently. He heard Arthur dress himself—the prat was more than capable of doing so, but Merlin didn’t think he would mind that particular duty at all anymore in the future—and leave the room. Merlin stretched again, fully prepared to doze until the prince returned.

And if, well into Arthur’s absence, he felt something like the ghost of Arthur’s hand sweep across his stomach and down lower, teasing his body and tantalizing his magic … 

Well, magic did work in mysterious ways.

  
 **The End**  



End file.
